The Night Of The Fateful Mission
by TheRebandTheDeb
Summary: Our boys on Halloween...what could possibly go wrong?


Author's Note: This story was a collaborative effort between Pet and Apple (aka the Deb) and no we don't own any of the characters Although owning Artie would still make my day (Deb you can wait lol)

THE NIGHT OF THE FATEFUL MISSION

Artie and Jim pulled to a stop in front of the old mansion and took in their surroundings. The mansion looked dilapidated and in need of repairs but it did look as though someone might still live there. The rain was still pouring down in buckets and Artie for one wanted out of it. Jim looked to his partner and saw that he was hunched into his coat, wanting out of the rain. He prodded his horse to continue on toward the mansion.

Artie pulled the letter and map they had received out of his pocket and looked it over again. The letter had come by special messenger requesting their presence immediately on a matter of national security. He looked at the mansion and it matched the one in the letter right down to the broken window shutter clinging by a nail to the side of the house.

"Do you think there's anyone here?" Artie called out through the rain.

"I think I saw a light in one of the upper rooms. Why don't you check out the front door and I'll go around to the back." Jim got off his horse and tied him to the hitching post and Artie did the same.

Artie approached the front door with trepidation. He reached up to knock on the door and when his fist connected with the door the door slowly swung open the creaking of the rusty hinges making him jump.

"Oh boy that's a great omen." Artie said as he pulled his pistol and went inside.

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Jim slowly walked up the rotting steps to the back door. Gently he knocked on the door, but the room beyond the window remained dark. Drawing his gun he slowly turned the knob and the door opened.

As he shut the door behind him he brought out a match from the box in his pocket and struck it against a tabletop. The flare from the match let him find a kerosene lamp on the table, which he lit. He raised the lamp to light the corners of the room, checking for any signs of life. Suddenly he felt a presence behind him. Quickly turning he came face to face with a large kettle floating at eye level. Jim ducked just as it swung on its handle toward his head then landed with a clatter across the room.

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Artie looked around and while the furniture had seen better days the parlor was immaculate. He peered around and not seeing anyone he continued on toward the staircase leading to the upper floors. He shook some cobwebs off his hand, and rubbed his hands on his pants to rid them of the sticky residue. Artie shivered as he ascended the stairs, keeping his eye on the hallway at the top.

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As Jim looked at the kettle lying on the floor a drawer full of cutlery opened and seemingly flung itself at the agent. Yet again he was quicker and sidestepped most of the utensils flying at him. A small paring knife pierced the bowl of his hat, the tip of the knife just grazing his head.

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Artie was about halfway up the long curving flight of stairs when they suddenly disappeared from beneath his feet! Where there had been steps, now there was nothing but a slippery surface. Artie let out a yell as he lost his footing and slid back down the staircase, landing in a heap at the bottom. His pistol went clattering across the floor.

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James was stunned. He removed his hat and looked at the paring knife protruding from it, then felt for blood. Finding that it was just a scratch he pulled the knife from his hat, glaring at the flying objects in the room. Just as he placed his hat back on his head he heard a yell from the front of the house.

Jim rushed into the room and seeing his partner's gun clatter across the floor, he scooped it up and went to check on his stunned partner.

"You okay, Artie?" Jim said as he helped him up and handed him his gun.

"Yeah just peachy, Jim," Artie grumped as he brushed himself off, "I'd like to know what you make of THAT." Artie gestured toward the staircase.

"It's stairs, Artie, what would you like me to make out of that?" Jim asked.

"Stairs? I'm talking about the slide I just…" Artie let his sentence trail off. He was staring at the stairs once again.

"I swear, Jim, that was a slide of some sort. I slid back down here I didn't fall." Artie insisted as Jim scrutinized his partner.

"I believe you, Artie. You wouldn't believe what I just saw in the kitchen." Jim said as he stared at the staircase.

"If it's anything like these stairs I don't think I want to know. What kind of weird fun house did we luck into?" Jim could only shrug his shoulders.

They agreed to continue their search of the house, Artie now very curious to find the home's owner. Eyeing the staircase warily he put his foot on the outer edge and began to climb the framework of the staircase as Jim headed back into the kitchen. When he reached the balcony at the top he gingerly climbed over the railing and looked down the hall. There were several doors on either side so Artie chose a door and headed for it.

His hand rested on the doorknob as he contemplated what he might find behind the door. He slowly turned the knob, opened the door and stuck his head inside. The room was dark and eerie looking and the door creaked when he opened it.

Finding a torch he lit it, then holding it up he swept the room with light. He froze when the torch lit one corner. There in the corner, floating just about eye level was what appeared to be a ghost. Artie wiped his eyes and looked again. It was still there. He took a step toward it and the apparition moved back. Artie took another step into the room and the apparition disappeared into the wall.

Artie approached the wall and felt for a door. After several frustrating minutes of searching and not finding one, he shrugged his shoulders and left the room. A small panel on one wall slid out of the way and revealed busy eyebrows and wisps of smoke wafted up from the opening as the eyes followed Artie's progress down the hall.

Artie reached for the next doorknob hesitantly, not sure what he would find. He grasped the knob and slowly opened the door and entered the room.

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As Jim left Artemus he had to pass the parlor. Since he had been in the kitchen already, he decided not to go back but to check out the parlor and see if he could find any evidence of the owners, or their whereabouts.

The draperies hanging in the entranceway to the room were rotted and hanging by bare threads in some places. Jim's shoulder brushed against them as he passed through to the dark room, dust billowing out of them, causing the agent to sneeze. As his eyes opened again he thought he saw a figure standing across the room from him. He raised the lantern he had brought from the kitchen. Nothing. The room was void of all furniture. Odd. He could have sworn he saw someone or something against the far wall.

After a quick look into the corners of the parlor, Jim turned toward the opening into the vestibule. He could hear Artemus moving around stealthily upstairs and decided to join his partner. As he passed under the rotting draperies the rod holding them up suddenly gave way, and Jim was quickly shrouded in yards of dust filled, web-ridden velvet. The sneezing seemed to go on forever as he freed himself of the musty and moldy tangle of fabric.

Finally he was able to toss the mess aside and started up the stairs after Artemus, whom he could still hear moving around above him. He saw his partner with his hand on a doorknob ready to open the door. Jim set his lantern down on the top step and crept stealthily down the hall toward his partner. He put his hand up and tapped Artie on the shoulder. His partner inhaled quickly and jumped.

"AHHHHHH!" Artie screamed as he turned around, "Damnit, Jim, are you trying to give me heart attack or just shorten my life by a few decades?" Artie grabbed clutched his chest, breathing heavily.

"Sorry, Artie, it just seemed like the thing to do in this place." Jim was trying to hide his chuckles and failing miserably.

"Very funny…" Artie said in a stage whisper. He turned the knob and pushed the door open, then ushered Jim into the room first.

James nodded to Artemus then took his lantern from him so that he could enter the room. Jim held the lamp aloft so that the duo could look around. Arte gasped at the state of the room.

"Why is it so…so spotless?" He ran a finger across the top of a lowboy and found no dust.

Jim walked over to the wardrobe and yanked the doors open. An array of modern clothes, smelling freshly laundered were hanging inside.

These are clean and new, Arte," Jim informed him as he lifted his head and sniffed the air. He was certain he had smelled that cigar earlier in this house. He turned to his partner who was closely examining the wall.

"Artie, do you smell that?" Artie regarded him with a confused look.

"Smell what, Jim?"

"That cigar. Don't you smell that?" Jim asked looking for the smoke he thought he might find.

"James, my boy, I think someone is having too much fun at our expense. What do you say we try to find the lunatic in charge of this Asylum?"

"Arte I would say that is a fine idea," Jim replied. "Let's go."

Jim led the way out of the pristine room while Arte took one last look around and shuddered. They turned right as they exited and headed to the room across the hall.

Artie and Jim paused before the next door. They looked at each other with trepidation, neither quite sure if they really wanted to proceed. Sighing, Jim leaned forward and opened the creaking door.

He held the lantern high as Artie passed under his arm and into the room. Artie jumped back in shock as the light fell on a skeleton suspended from the ceiling. He became tangled in the skeleton and was fumbling blindly, trying to free himself from the bony clutches of someone's former loved one.

"Jim! Great jumping balls of St. Elmo's Fire!" Artie shouted to his partner.

Jim quickly was across the room and disentangling Arte from the clicking bones.

"Arte, calm down."

"CALM DOWN? CALM DOWN?" Artie regarded him with an angry glare.

"Yes, calm down. It isn't a dead body for crying out loud." Jim chuckled at his friend.

"Well you don't have to be so crass about it." Arte pulled himself up, tugging at his waistcoat, and looked hurt at the words of his friend.

It was then that the flames of the gas lamps hanging on the walls jumped to life and a familiar voice boomed out…

"Gentlemen, although your actions are hysterical do you think you might be able to focus long enough to enter the room and take your seats?" Grant gestured toward two chairs in front of a large and long table.

Seated behind the table were none other than President Grant, Colonel Richmond and other various other cabinet members including the head of the Secret Service. Many had their hands covering their mouths to hide their smiles.

Jim and Arte looked around the table sheepishly as they took their seats and tried to keep their eyes focused on the table in front of them. Grant cleared his throat, making them jump.

"West, Gordon," Grant began with a smirk, "you have just tested our new training facility…."

"Sir? Do you have any idea what you just put us through?" Artie asked incredulously. "Not to mention what DAY this is?" Artie raised an eyebrow.

"Of course, Artemus. It's October 31. All Hallow's Eve. Don't you think our regular training should include the trappings of a haunted house like this?"

"I should hope not, sir. The new recruits would never last though this!" Artie noted Jim was being strangely quiet.

Arte looked over at his partner, "What do you say, Jim, you agree with me, don't you?

Jim looked at his partner and opened his mouth, his jaw moving up and down but no words coming out. Jim had a surprised look on his face.

"Artie…" Jim whispered as he toppled out of his chair, falling heavily onto the floor.

"JIM!"

Artie lunged forward to catch his partner but was unable to stop the fall and could only watch as his partner slid to the floor. Colonel Richmond jumped out of his seat, as did a few other members of the group. Grant sat stoically, chewing his cigar.

"Jim, what is it?"

Artie turned James over onto his back as Richmond pulled the chairs out of the way. He loosened the collar of Jim's shirt, making sure that he had air, then put his ear to the chest of his friend. Frantically Arte sat up and grabbed Jim's hand, feeling for a pulse at his wrist, then putting two fingers to the carotid artery at Jim's neck.

"Artemus, what is it?" Col. Richmond asked. Arte began to push on Jim's chest.

"I can't feel a pulse, his breathing," Arte gasped, "well, I'm not certain he IS breathing!"

Grant stood then, "No pulse? Are you sure Gordon?"

Artemus kept applying compressions to the chest of his partner of so many years, without bothering to look up, "Yes sir, quite sure."

"Get the president's doctor in here now!" Richmond barked as an aide ran from the room and down the hall toward the front of the house.

Grant moved around the table to kneel next to Arte and James. Artie felt for a pulse at Jim's wrist and kept the compressions going. The aide returned with Grant's physician and they moved aside to give him room to work on Jim. He kept his back to the President as he feverishly worked to save the agent's life.

The doctor made several attempts to revive his patient before turning and looking somberly at Artemus. The look in his eyes was more than Artie could stand and he hung his head, shaking it.

"No…noooooo…NOOOOOOO!" Artie moaned in disbelief, his tone gaining in volume with each syllable.

Tears began streaming down his cheeks while Richmond and Grant's eyes locked over his bowed head. Arte's body was wracked with the shaking of silent sobs. Grant reached out and gripped the arm of one of his best agents.

"Son..." he began.

"No! Don't son me!" Artie thundered as he pulled his arm back and turned away. He looked at his friend lying on the floor.

"What was this all about?" Arte asked, his voice a monotone. He reached out and closed his hand over that of his partner, his friend, his brother.

Colonel Richmond reached down and touched Arte's shoulder. "Artemus..." Arte pulled away and buried his face in the lapel of Jim's jacket.

The sobs and tears gushing forth from Artie like a river brought a hush over the room. No one could look at the men and did not see Artie's finger furiously tapping on Jim's chest. Artie looked up at Grant tears streaming down his face.

"Was it worth it, SIR?" He spat. "Was your little game worth Jim's life?" Artie demanded to know.

Grant pulled his handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped his eyes, as did Richmond.

"Now Arte," Jim sat up, "don't be so harsh with the president. " Jim said as he sat up with a toothy smile. He is your superior after all." Grant and the rest of the group were incredulous, the doctor had surreptitiously slipped from the room.

"Of course James, you are right." Artie replied returning Jim's smile with one of his own. The two agents turned as one and looked at the aghast group…

"HAPPY HALLOWEEN!" They shouted in unison. Then they erupted into gales of laughter as the assembled group snatched their hats and left the room in a huff. Grant stood up and clamped his cigar between his teeth again. "Humph!"

"Devilishly tricky, gentlemen, devilishly tricky. How did you know?" Grant wondered.

"The next time you want to pull the wool over our eyes, sir, you might want to smoke a different brand of cigar…not the one Artie gave you for Christmas last year." Jim grinned.

"And, sir, we ARE your best agents…even Jim here could see through your ruse." Artie winked at his partner as they locked arms and skipped out of the room whistling, leaving Grant to stare after them speechless.


End file.
